


Mind In Chains

by whereismygarden



Series: Stargate Universe Rarepairs [3]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Brainwashing, Choking, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereismygarden/pseuds/whereismygarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleeping with the enemy to maintain his cover is something he's prepared to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind In Chains

**Author's Note:**

> There's a brief scene involving needles in this story: nothing graphic, but just a warning. And if you didn't look at the tags, dubious consent and other issues related to loss of autonomy/free will.

                She watches him moving among the rest of her people. Inkief of Shebara, one of Ra’s, then Apophis’s, worlds. Dark haired, dark eyed, with a controlled, burning violence inside that first caught her eye. Kiva touches her upper lip with her tongue as he leans in to say something to Varro. She’s sent Olan away, to get everything ready. She wants to do it herself. Inkief laughs at something Varro says, rocks back in his seat, comfortable and sure in the black leather of their people. Her people, rather.

                She’s quite eager to get her hands on Colonel David Telford.

~

                Kiva’s been watching him all evening, a glint in her green eyes that he can recognize. Varro’s seen it too, and jabs him in the side.

                “I hope you’re not the kind of man who likes to get on top,” he says, grinning a little, but there’s something dark in his eyes too. The man’s married, but in the Alliance, you show your loyalty however your commander asks you to.

                “Oh, I like to fight in bed as much as I do out of it,” he says, which is true. And Kiva’s gorgeous, there’s just danger inherent in doing this with her.

                She gives him a look, flicks her eyes to the side, and she follows him as he walks out of the hall, down corridors to her room. It’s spartan, with a low bed and a desk, electronics and some books. A chest with clothes. Kiva crowds up to him, nudges between his thighs with hers. No doubt feeling that he’s half hard already. Hopefully she’ll appreciate it: she knows why she brought him back here, and it wasn’t to talk strategy. He’s wary, watching her, but no more than any of her lieutenants would probably be, trying to judge what she wants. She’s got a reputation as hard to please in the field, and it could very well extend to what she likes in bed.

                She gives him her hungry smile and pushes him, hard, onto the bed, cutting off his assessment of what she might like. He can guess that she doesn’t want him to just give up right away, let her take without having to earn, so he hooks a leg round her hip and drags her on top of him, flips them over so she’s on her back. She bares her teeth and he grinds down against her, and kisses her neck, putting some teeth into it. She grabs him by the thighs, pulls him closer, and moves so she can get her teeth in his shoulder, his neck, then on his jaw. He shivers; he needs to concentrate. It’s a little hard when his groin is pressed against hers, her hands strong on the backs of his thighs, and her tongue is tracing over his jaw and ear.

                She sits up, forcing him to do the same: she’s stronger than her thin frame would suggest. It gives him a little thrill when she grabs his hair and kneels on top of his thighs, forcing him to stay still. She pulls off his jacket and shirt, then hers. He can’t help but grin a little at her, and she lets him duck his head forward, put his mouth on her breast and flick his tongue over the nipple, hands gripping her waist hard. He’s not afraid to use his teeth, and she doesn’t do anything to make him stop. She runs a hand through his hair, tugs his head back.

 

                He knows it’s coming, but it’s still fast when Kiva pushes him down again, a hand on his chest. He pushes back, looks her in the eyes with an expression that will say ‘hey I want to fight you. I’ll let you win, but I want to fight.’ She gets it, and grabs his wrists in her hands.

                “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?” she breathes, leaning down, and he breaks her grip, shoves close to her, straddles her, pins her by her upper arms and noses at her neck and hair. He doesn’t want to kiss her, so he licks at her neck instead, biting her chest a little. She runs her hands over his back, tracing over his shoulders and down his spine with a surprisingly light touch that feels him with trepidation. He moves his mouth back to her breasts, the scarred, tight skin over her abdomen, hooks his hands into her waistband. That was in her file: Anateo knifed her in the intestines in some fight when she was a new officer and some former host saved her with a healing device. The scar is thick and white, and he moves his mouth past it. She grabs his hair and shivers as he sucks a bruise into the delicate skin of her hip, licks over it.

                “Don’t you move your head anywhere but down,” she orders, voice like a knife. He growls into her thigh, undoing the fastenings of her trousers, and bites her again on the opposite hip. He drags the trousers past her hips, feels his cock jerk at the sight of dark hair and wet flesh, the reddened skin where his teeth were. There’s a big part of him that wants to sit up, snap her neck, but he’d never get anywhere after the deed was done, and fucking one war criminal he can admit he sort of wants to fuck anyway to maintain his cover is doable. He pulls her thighs apart and licks between her labia, lets her shove his face down against her.

                He doubts she’s going to reciprocate like this, but hell, she tastes good. He doesn’t want to like it, doesn’t like it, but he can’t help but be turned on further by the soft skin and salty-sweet liquid under his tongue. He digs his fingers into her hips as hard as he can while he sucks and licks at her. She trails a finger down his neck and over his shoulders, props herself up on one elbow to watch him.

                “Come on, then, is this everything?” She puts her heel against his back, and he keeps most of his body still. That’s not ‘come fuck me,’ that’s ‘make me come.’ He moves one hand, slides a few fingers inside, sucks on her clit. Kiva gives off an aura like she doesn’t have orgasms, but she comes under his tongue and around his fingers, her thighs shifting under his chest: silent the whole time, breathing fast and deep.

                _Now,_ his instincts scream, but it wouldn’t be smart, so he doesn’t.

                Her hand moves so fast he doesn’t see the syringe until he’s already feeling the fang-like needle sinking into his shoulder.

                Should have listened to his instincts. He gets to his knees, reaches for her arm, for the knife he has in his boot, but she grabs his wrists and shoves him onto his back. He feels weak. Sick. Something strong was in that needle.

                Something sharp pricks his temple. Kiva leaves him lying there, and when she comes back a moment later she’s dressed and collected, sweat drying on her face.

                “Colonel,” she says, and pulls his knife out of his boot, places the tip at his throat, smiles a little. There’s a tray next to her, with things that glitter goa’uld gold and medical silver and glass. “You have underestimated the Alliance, but that’s never happening again.”

                He can’t really focus, but he feels her wipe the crook of his arm with something wet and cold, then a needle going in. The pressure of whatever’s going into his veins is slight, but he can see clear tubing draped over her shoulder. She clicks something in her hand, and the pain at his temple ratchets up. He knows what this is. This is a memory device. There’s a little gold device attached to his temple right now.

                Then the pain is gone, and he’s half-floating. He can feel his arms and legs, so heavy, as if they’re filling with water, but they’re not really attached to him. He can only manage one small thought at a time.

                “When are you supposed to pull out of this cover?” It’s a strange question, because he’s lost his cover now. Kiva’s found him out.

                “In two months.”

                “You know the Stargate Program, the Tau’ri in general, are so arrogant. So narrow-minded in their goals for this galaxy.” He never thought of it that way, but there’s something to that. But they’ve saved the galaxy too, he remembers holding a gun, gritting his teeth, braced to be struck down with the holy fire of two different dynasties of false gods.

                “We’ve done a lot. We’ve defeated the goa’uld and the Ori.”

                “The goals of the Alliance reach farther. We’re more effective, and you know it. The Tau’ri are doomed to lose control: here, and in Pegasus.”

                “Yeah, that’s…that makes sense.” There’s something sick and heavy at the back of those thoughts, something fierce and chained screaming inside, but he can’t see it. “But I’m with them.”

                “You’re going to change your mind. You’re going to go back to the Tau’ri, but you’ll be one of us. You’ll be helping the Alliance, undercover, the way you were them.”

                “Why?” He’s forgotten something.

                “You’ve seen our potential. You’re going to be one of us.”

                He can’t see anything, feel anything, but that’s right. That must be right.

                He blinks his eyes open, surprised to find his head hurting. Kiva is at the end of the bed: he’s in her bed. She gives him a sharp smile.

                “Too much to drink, Telford?” He nods, ruefully. That rot-gut Calvos makes must pack a bigger punch than it tastes.

                “Must have been.” She moves forward, puts her knees on either side of his hips and braces herself over him.

                “Well, I hate to leave this half unfinished,” she says. He feels a kick in his stomach at the challenge in her voice.

                “I feel the same,” he replies, in his darkest voice, and flips them both, fast, so she’s on her back with a hand on his chest. She smiles, amused, moves her legs, sweeps him off his knees, and rolls them back over, one hand on his abdomen, one over his throat. He gives her a quick smile, breathes in with a thrill of fear. She’s magnificent, and he’s hard again, the weight of her fingers on his throat sending shocks down his spine that end in his cock. She grinds against him, lets him open both their trousers with hasty hands, then spits into her palm.

                Fuck, the feeling of her hand sliding over him, hot and wet, the rest of her weight on her forearm across his chest and shoulders—he groans through his teeth, feels his hips jerk up into her hand.

                “Oh God,” he says, and reaches to drag her pants down to her knees.

                “No gods here,” she says, leaning down so she’s draped over him, instead of sitting upright, breath hot in his face.

                “Tau’ri expression,” he says, and she squeezes the base of his cock, takes her hand away. But then she’s sliding onto him, and he thrusts up as she moves down.

                She puts her hand over his throat again, a light, exhilarating reminder, and rides him slowly, as his hands dig into her thighs lest they shake. Her eyes are bright, cool and pleased, and he closes his, lost in blissful wet heat and the slight pressure on his breathing and he could really do this for hours, he thinks.

                Then Kiva taps him sharply on the cheek, and kisses him when he opens his eyes.

                For a split second, he wants to recoil, but then he’s moaning into it, relishing the slick strength of her tongue pushing against his, and wrapping his arms around her shoulders and matching her movements. God he’d love to do this for hours but he can already tell that he’ll be lucky to last more than ten minutes because the sex is suddenly blindingly hot, where it was a slow smolder before. Kiva’s hot and tight as she slides up and down him, and he pants, grabbing her by the ass and hips and dragging her close so he’s going deep every time.

                He ends up on his back, thrusting up fast and hard while she keeps one hand on his hip and one on his shoulder. He tries to move, but she’s got one foot braced somewhere he can’t see and he can’t turn them, though he likes the feeling of pushing against her shoulder, and pulling her close, and she fights him the whole time, drawing away when he pulls her close and pushing when he shoves her back, rocking hard down against him but grappling him. She leaves bite marks all over his chest while they fuck, and he feels like he’s being claimed. He’s going to be bruised all over in the morning, and so will she.

                “Fucking hell,” he grits out, moving his fingers over the slick folds of flesh, searching for her clit close to where they’re joined, catching moisture from there, rubbing and pinching until she grabs his hand, moves it as she wants, and she comes. The feel of her clenching around him, her fingers scratching down his chest and hip, push him over the edge and he follows her, biting back a yell and just keening through his closed lips.

                He closes his eyes, tossing his head back, as she climbs off of him, straightening herself out. Her hair has come a little loose, and she neatens it with an even expression, using pins from her desk. When she’s done, she looks at him with a complicated, victorious expression and he dares to flash her an insolent smile from his position on her bed, still splayed out and unwilling to move.

                She kicks him out of her room, of course, but he leaves with a smirk on his face and a satisfaction and surety in his bones.

**Author's Note:**

> I know Telford is often really unsympathetic, and for good reason, but I think he deserved a hug after what he had to go through in season 1.
> 
> Title adapted from IAMX's "Cold Red Light": "Your mind is in chains, and your body's not the answer." I listened to their Volatile Times album over and over while writing this.


End file.
